


Writ, the Clever Fox, and the Running Steed

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Irish Folk Tales, Magic, Multi, Púca | Pooka, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: Sometimes, certain creatures help of their own accord. Iris meets one such creature, but his other is a fae of trade. Now she must spend a year and a day with both of them while completing three tasks in exchange for protection.[Each chapter will be based on the prompts for Coldwestallen Week. Characters and tags will be added with chapters.]





	1. Lust/Chastity

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to do a fairy tale thing, and 'lo and behold, I had a page marked in my Irish Folk Tales book that fit perfectly.
> 
> I took a couple liberties with the myth, though.
> 
> The tapestries you'll see are based off of unicorn tapestries from way back when. Probably an anachronism, but. Unicorns.

Iris hates working at the tavern. The owner had hired her for her ass and the patrons come by to smack it and pull her into their laps. She can refuse and glare all she wants, but it always starts again the following night. The job doesn't pay much either, but she knows her family needs every cent, so she keeps at it.

There are of course men who will chase her when she is finally free to go home. Iris takes a special kind of joy kicking them in the balls or, for the especially persistent, breaking their noses. The owner, for all his own chasing, ignores the complaints since they didn't happen under his roof. You would think stories of her overtaking lustful men would stop them. They don't.

This man is not a man whose nose Iris can break.

The Duke of Woodward has come to survey his territory once again. On his previous visit, Iris had taken pains to get lost in the evening crowd, but this time no one had expected him and his attendants. Regardless, he had punished the town officials severely for not being prepared, including Iris' father. Yet his wealth and protection kept their town running, so the citizens were forced to keep silent. After a long talk with her father, Iris reluctantly recognized the immediate and future consequences of breaking the Duke's nose.

That night, the Duke enjoys the tavern and all its delights. Music is played, louder and merrier than ever, the fire roars, and drinks are an endless fountain. Iris dances from the Duke's grasp as often as she is able and hopes that will be enough to repel him.

Hours later, Iris is tired to the bone but on high alert for anyone at her heels. Her father's house is a cottage nearest to the forest on the west side of town, and she knows the path well. She forces her dragging feet to hasten her to it.

A hand brands her elbow, stronger than iron. Dread clamps Iris' gut.

"Leaving so soon, Iris?" the Duke asks, "I thought we were going to have more fun."

She can't break his nose. She can't break his nose. Iris takes a deep breath and turns to face him with a plastered smile.

"I need to be getting home, Excellency," she replies as politely as her clenched teeth allow, "My father and brother are expecting me."

The Duke yanks her closer. Iris barely holds back a grimace at the half-hard cock rubbing against her thigh.

" _I'm_ expecting you," he growls.

Iris leans forward until his grip relaxes. Then she snatches her arm away. "I'm afraid you will have to be disappointed, sir."

The Duke snarls. He charges, and Iris runs.

She can't go to her father's house with this beast chasing her, nor can she expect help from the townsfolk. The trees are said to come alive at night, crawling with fae and other terrible creatures. Yet it is either certain destruction at the Duke's hands, or the chance of destruction in the woods.

With limited options, Iris kicks off to the right and heads for the towering forest. The full moon illuminates a path, sending a fresh spike of doubt up her spine―until the Duke barks, "Get back here, you little bitch!" and she can only follow the rays.

The forest canopy lets in the barest hints of light, forcing Iris to hold out her hands and stumble blindly through the brush. The Duke crashes after her. Thorns and sticks scrape Iris' legs and catch her skirt until she is forced to shed it as she runs. When the Duke discovers it, he laughs and accuses her of playing hard to get. In nothing but a now sullied corset, shirt, and worn hose, Iris continues to navigate the forest.

It isn't long before her exhaustion creeps back in. Her lungs burn and wheeze, and her cut legs nick her with pulsing aches. But the Duke remains undeterred, and so she coughs and pants and keeps running.

The thicket suddenly breaks into a small clearing with two paths and an old oak between them. Iris knows she will soon collapse if she doesn't rest. She takes no path; instead, she heaves her body up the tree's thick branches.

But before she can get to the second branch, the Duke grabs her ankle.

"I should hang you for giving me this much trouble, you cocktease," he snaps.

"Let go!" Iris cries.

"No. The least I deserve is a nice fuck." His voice gets low with promise. "I'll bend you over right here and have you until the day is light. Now  _get down_!"

Iris yelps, crashing to the ground. The Duke licks his lips and forces her legs open. No matter how hard Iris pushes, he won't budge.

"That's much better," he says with a wolfish grin, "Now you just lie back like a good bitch and―"

A trilling noise silences them.

Iris can't help but search for it. She gasps when she finds it: a lithe white fox sitting on the left path. What's more alarming is its ethereal glow under the full moon.

She has heard stories of this fox. It leads the gamblers and the salacious drunks to their graves, but it is most definitely fae, so Iris can't trust it to be predictable. Yet while the fox is beautiful, with its ever-changing hazel eyes and and graceful movement, Iris feels no compulsion to follow it. Indeed, she feels only the compulsion to run far away.

When she chances to look back at the Duke, however, she finds his bloodthirsty grin has become dazed.

"Well, aren't you a pretty one?" he rasps. At the fox's next trill, he stands. "I bet you'll make a fine prize."

Iris is torn between trying to stop him and letting him go. In the end, she knows that should the Duke disappear, it will be her the nobility blames and her town will suffer. Before the fox can do more than make more pretty trills, Iris pushes herself to her feet and reaches for the Duke.

A whinny grabs her attention.

There, on the right path, is a horse of an uncanny scarlet coat, yellow socks, and a brown mane and tail. Its muscled form is built for powerful speed, but its big green eyes are kind and gentle.

A smile blooms unbidden on Iris' face. "Hello, there," she murmurs, all thoughts of the Duke and the fox disappearing from her mind.

The horse nods its head and paws the dirt. It wants her to come with it; Iris knows this without having to ask.

Behind her, the fox darts into the darkness, the Duke hot on its tail. Iris can no longer hear them.

The horse's snout bumps her cheek. Iris laughs, showering it with pets. Its coat is smooth and shiny like a walking ruby.

Soon enough, Iris is mounting the steed, laying her weary head in its sweet-smelling mane.

* * *

When Iris wakes, she is in a warm bed, and there is a young man sitting in a chair. He is bedecked in scarlet red with boots engraved in yellow zig-zags like a lightning strike. His hair is a deep brown, and his eyes are a kind and gentle green.

He smiles sweetly at her. "How are you feeling?"

Slowly, Iris sits up. The room hosts a lively fireplace and more finery than she has ever seen, coffered ceiling painted with intricate blues and whites that take the form of ice while the paneled walls have tapestries hanging from them. Only in these, the unicorn is not hunted, but free, running with its fellows through the stars. The floors are polished wood, and all sorts of treasures and books litter the shelves lining the free spaces on the walls.

"I...I'm fine," Iris says, "Where am I?"

"A safe place," the man replies earnestly, "No creature can pass that either I or my other don't permit."

"Your other?"

The man's smile becomes fond. "He always insists that he already has a partner, so I have to find a different title for him. 'Beloved,' he says, is too  _flashy_." He chuckles as if he just made a funny joke.

Iris gives him a smile of her own. "Thank you for the shelter―sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Call me Barry."

Iris nods. "I―"

Barry throws his hand between them, suddenly frightened. "No, no, don't say your full name! It has too much power here."

"Here...?"

Her heart lurches.

Iris gasps. "The―the Duke―and I rode off with a―"

"It's okay," Barry says, calm again, "it's okay, I promise. As I said, you're safe here." When he puts his hands on her shoulders, waves of happiness and comfort flow through Iris until she can't help but be calm herself.

She looks at him with new eyes. "No. You―you can't be―"

Barry gives a playful and distinctly equine snort.

"But that would mean―"

"I'm not like my other," Barry says, "Where I run to save the lost, he lures the cheats and liars. You came across our paths."

Iris scrambles away from him. He lets her go, hands remaining up as if approaching a spooked animal.

"I want to go home," she says.

Barry frowns. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait until dawn. It's a miracle you and your attacker weren't beset before you stepped into our sights."

"Isn't there anything that can be done?" she demands.

"That is all I can offer you. I'm sorry."

He appears sincere, but Iris was raised in the shadow of the forest. She keeps back.

Barry seems to consider something. Then he sighs and stands. "My other will return soon. Despite the size of his favored shape, he is feared by many here. Perhaps you can convince him to escort you to the border." He smiles with mischief of his kind. "Just make sure you have him promise your safe return home―the moment you left, mind. He can be one of those 'year and a day' fae when he's in the mood."

Iris still doesn't trust him, but she knows there is some truth to his words about fae and oaths, so she nods.

Barry smiles kindly again. "Do you need anything?"

Iris is about to say no, when a horrible idea strikes her. "What happened to the Duke?"

Barry makes a flippant gesture. "My other detests molesters. I suspect the Duke is already in his well."

"His― _well_?"

"A well of raw magic. Even if he somehow survives, he will be doomed to roam these woods as a servant of my other."

Iris shudders. "Then he will be presumed dead and I will be blamed." She puts a hand to her mouth. "My family is ruined."

Barry's expression crumples, as if this truly pains him. "Oh. I'm so sorry, miss." He pauses. "There must be something we can do. Changing memories is far from foolproof―I speak from experience." He bites his lip. Then he brightens and says, "My other is clever. He will find a solution."

He tries to put a hand on her shoulder. When Iris shrinks back, he does as well.

"We'll find a way," Barry says. But he promises nothing.

* * *

Iris doesn't know how long she stays curled against the wall. The darkness outside the far window refuses to change just as the fire never wavers. But at long last, she hears a door open and a new voice joining Barry's in low tones.

A few moments later, a new man appears. His ever-changing eyes and pale skin are unmistakable.  _The fox_.

"Call me Len," he says, voice deeper than Barry's and a bit nasal. When Iris doesn't respond, he gives her a thief's smirk and says, "So Barry warned you about giving your name. He must like you."

Barry turns as red as his ensemble. Iris refuses to be charmed by it.

Len saunters closer. "So what's this I hear about my latest prize's death giving you trouble?"

Iris swallows and straightens her spine. "The Duke protects my town in exchange for loyalty and taxes. He had been boasting at the tavern that he would―" she scowls, "―have his way with me. If I returned without him, and he fails to appear to his attendants or at his estate, I will be blamed."

Len looks at Barry. "And you wonder why I steal riches and titles."

Barry crosses his arms and scoffs. "One noble does not represent all."

Iris raises her eyebrow. "You haven't met many nobles, then."

Barry starts, but Len back to smirking at her. It almost looks like a smile now.

"I like you," Len says, "I suppose I can help you out. But unlike the horse here, I don't do things for free."

Iris' eyes narrow. "Tell me your solution first."

Len's smirk widens. She made the right choice. "It's obvious. You both must disappear." Iris stiffens. "Not to worry. Barry would be far too upset if I threw you in my well, and he's annoying when he's upset." Barry makes an affronted noise. "I'm talkin' about keeping you with us for a year and a day."

Barry's earlier words come back to Iris. She balks. "Absolutely not!"

Len shrugs. "If you're gone that long and come stumbling back out, you can say the fae took you and the idiot. I'll make sure to plant some enchanted object on you so they have to believe you. But that'll cost you extra."

"My father and brother are waiting for me," Iris snaps.

"Ain't that sweet," Len sneers, "but not my problem, or yours. Ultimately what they'll care about is your safety." The temperature drops, eliciting a shiver from Iris. "Unless they don't care for you at all?"

Barry puts a hand on his shoulder, and the fire regains its brilliance. "What Len is  _trying_ to say is that if they love you, they'll wait. You seem like you come from a good family, miss."

Iris blinks the stinging from her eyes. "Yes."

Len tilts his head, unknowingly mirroring Barry's crossed arms and thoughtful expression. "Then that is my solution."

"Why can't you just drop me off two days from now?" Iris asks.

"Because I've established a year and a day as my calling card," Len replies, "and others have followed me." He grins deviously. "It's a trend now. Any sooner and they'll still suspect you."

Barry frowns in sympathy. "He's right."

"Oo, Barry admitting I'm right? I think I'll like havin' you around, ma'am."

Barry shoots him a withering look.

Iris looks at the two fae. "What's your price?"

Barry turns to Len. His wariness concerns Iris. "It's your deal."

Len looks disgustingly satisfied. "Then I'll set the terms. For the year and a day under our protection, you have to accompany me on a few―jaunts."

Iris' hands clench the sheets. "Jaunts?"

Barry's hanging his head. "He means thefts."

Len continues, "On these jaunts, I call the shots, and you'll abide by 'em. Doesn't matter what the target is. And you will treat our territory with respect. Meaning the paths, this house, and all of its belongings." He starts a slow turn about the room. "For the safe escort after the year and a day back to your town, you have to walk a ways on your own first. A lady of gold resides in the great lake. Follow the dawn and you will find her. Deliver something for me, and see that there is a response."

Len averts his eyes to the floor. "As for the enchanted item, well. My possessions were stolen for a reason." When he looks back at her, his eyes have settled to a sharp glacial blue. "To earn it, you must find the dragon of flame and ash and bring him to me."

Iris gulps.

" _Len_ ," Barry hisses.

But Len ignores him. "Do we have a deal?"

Iris reels with the daunting tasks. But―well, what choice does she have?

"You promise not to harm me in any way?" she says, "To keep me safe and escort me back to my town exactly one year and a day from now, with the enchanted item as proof of my tale?"

"Should you accept the price," Len says, "yes."

Iris cautiously gets to her feet. She becomes uncomfortably aware of her dirty clothes, but oddly grateful to the fae who didn't undress her. "Then we have a deal."

Len shakes her hand. "Then you have my word, and my word is my vow."

Ice crackles through his black boots, stinging Iris' toes.

"We'll need something to call you, of course," Len says.

Iris freezes. She runs through the names of her friends, of her late mother, but she doesn't want to give any of them away.

"Well?"

Perhaps...a name is part of an identity, yes? So how else would Iris identify herself?

"Call me Writ," she replies.

"Writ," Barry says, "I like that!"

"I suggest you start with the lady of gold," Len says, "you have a few hours until dawn. Rest up."

He releases her hand from its cold grip. Iris clutches her frostbitten fingers.

"Ah," Barry mutters as Len leaves, "here, come by the fire. I'd tend to it myself, but when our powers collide, it creates absolute zero, and trust me, you don't want that."

Iris' fingers tremble as the heat touches her. She glances at Barry. Then takes a steadying breath and says, "Although it's not ideal, I should thank you for saving my life."

Barry winces, rubbing the back of his neck. The gesture is so human that Iris falters. "I'm just sorry it had to come to this. My other isn't all that bad, I swear."

"Yes, he seems like a ray of sunshine."

Barry laughs. It sounds like a playful wind. "He  _hates_ hot days. I keep telling him to cover himself or he'll melt."

Iris' lips twitch. There's another beat of quiet.

"You seem..." Barry tilts his head, curious. Iris shrugs and says, "I don't know. You just―I haven't heard of fae like you."

Barry smiles. "Yeah, I'm pretty special."

Iris snorts.

Barry sobers. "But, really. The nice ones are rare. When you're on thefts with Len―watch your back, okay? He has a whole band of roguish fae that will try to trick you at every turn. Len will keep you safe, but that doesn't mean they can't do anything."

Iris nods. "Thank you. Again."

Barry sighs. "I should leave you to it. If you're hungry, just tell the house. I'm sure there's already clothes for you in the wardrobe."

"Wait―tell the house?"

Barry beams. "Yep! I inherited xem from a particularly nasty fae when I killed him. I rebuilt and added on a lot. Xe calls xemself Gideon."

There it is. So Barry is not as kind as he seems. Iris tires not to be disappointed.

As for the house...well, if fae and magic exist, why not sentient houses?

"Ah, see? Xe's reattached the washroom for you. That means you made a good impression."

Iris follows Barry's pointing and jumps when she finds a new door to the right of the fireplace, as well as an elaborately carved wardrobe adjacent to it that was also definitely not there before.

"I'll leave you to it," Barry says, "Good night, Writ."

When the door closes, Iris takes a long breath. Only to jump again when the washroom door slowly opens.

Right. She's dirty and sticky with sweat. If nothing else, she can begin her new routine with a bath.

* * *

Len fucks him against the wall, guiding him up and down on his cock as Barry pants heavily against his temple.

"Why the dragon?" Barry moans, the sound choked in his effort to be quiet.

Len licks up his neck. "'Cause that woman ran into an enchanted forest without stoppin'."

Barry chuckles breathlessly. "Thought you said it was a stupid move."

"Shows guts," Len grunts, "Mick'll like it."

He gives Barry a few short strokes, and Barry's body shudders. Len bites his shoulder to muffle his groan.

"You like 'er too, huh Barry?" Len murmurs. Barry hisses. "Thinkin' about how she's right across the way? Think she hears you?"

He picks up the pace. Barry's breathing follows suit, as well as the small sounds he can't stop.

"Touch yourself," Len orders.

Barry smacks back against the wall. Bracing one hand on Len's shoulder, he does as he's told, his strokes considerably faster.

"I wonder what she'd look like," Len whispers, "all marked up by you."

Barry comes, barely gagged by Len's kiss. Len speeds up again, not unaffected by the image of Barry painting Writ's face, dripping down her chin as she bites her full lips―he moans into Barry's throat and comes.

It won't happen, he knows. Then again, they've got a full year and a day.


	2. Pride/Humility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my dog needed an operation on his other ACL, and just as my finals ended, he got a screw loose in his leg, which was just great. So now my updating schedule is late af, when I thought for sure this time I'd do better.

Dawn is strange in the forest. Instead of gentle pinks and purples, Iris wakes to relentless crimson stained with puddles of eerie green.

At her bedside is a steaming plate of eggs, sausage, and tea. As the fireplace ignites, Iris sees there is no table supporting the tray. Taking a calming breath, she sits up and pulls it onto her lap.

Despite Barry's words last night, Iris is uncertain when she murmurs, "Thank you, Gideon."

Bells chime pleasantly by her bedroom door. Iris hadn't noticed them before: a little set of polished silver, woven into what almost looks like a head shape. Iris swallows and quickly averts her eyes. She needs her appetite.

Breakfast is delicious. The eggs are perfectly seasoned, the sausage tender and juicy, and the tea is an herbal mixture that tastes of good memories and awareness. Iris doesn't know how those can have tastes, but she can't find any other way to describe them. The cup itself is porcelain painted with irises, but there are patches of opaque crystal interrupting the scene, as if the teacup had shattered and this was the paste. Either way, Iris takes just as much time admiring everything as she does eating.

When she is finished, she cautiously thanks Gideon again. The bells sway. When Iris blinks, the tray is gone.

Iris shakes her head. She'll have plenty of time to get used to this. Today, she has one of her tasks, and the dawn does not last forever.

The wardrobe opens before she reaches it. Inside is a single dress, translucent perrywinkle blue with a cream sash about the waist and a handkerchief hem. Upon closer inspection, Iris can make out glittering irises twisting up the dress, all the way to its fluttering short sleeves. Beneath are, thankfully, dark boots made for walking through a forest, a matching pair of fingerless gloves resting on top of them.

Yet this dress. It's beautiful, to be sure, but Iris couldn't possibly wear it for a hike. Still, Gideon has been generous, and call her crazy, but Iris doesn't want to risk angering a sentient house.

There is a slip under the dress, a low v-neck under the round collar that only reaches Iris' knees. The ensemble fits her exactly, hugging her body with pretty sighs and leathery creaks. A mirror dissolves into being in the back of the wardrobe, and Iris nearly starts at her reflection. She looks like—well, like a fairy about to go dancing in a meadow. The thought frightens as much as it amazes her.

The wardrobe's drawer opens, revealing a small wooden box. Inside are eight gemstones, four diamonds and four sapphires interspersed with each other.

"Thank you, Gideon," Iris says. The bells chime. "These are...lovely earrings."

This time, when the bells ring, Iris could swear there is a hint of amusement in them.

Iris gasps as eyes paint themselves on the wall. At first, she's certain they belong to Gideon, but no mouth forms to speak to her. The eight gems in her hand are painted around the corner of the eyes.

Iris blinks. "O-oh. Is that what they're used for?"

The bells chime, and the model disappears.

Well, hopefully they'll stick.

* * *

When he sees her, Barry drops his plate. Iris fails to hide a smile as he starts fumbling.

"Gideon likes you," Len says, adjusting his own set of gloves, "don't ruin it."

Barry scoffs, face red but hands steadier. "You'll be fine, Writ. Gideon would never let a beloved guest's clothes tear or stain."

Iris tucks her hair behind her ear. She had tried to comb it back, but the brush she'd used kept sweeping her hair into a lace braided bun that left curled wisps dangling around her face. Gideon had even provided rouge for her lips.

Len takes a red apple from the center of the table and heads for the door. "Remember," he says, "follow the dawn. I'll be back in time for the reply."

Iris eases when he's gone. "Is he always like that?"

Barry plops in front of his plate. "You mean cold and mildly threatening? Oh yeah." He shovels greens into his mouth.

Iris smooths her dress. "So—my other clothes?"

"Oh, Gideon's probably washing them. But if you want to wear those, you could just ask."

Objectively, Iris knows she should. Those clothes are much better suited for what she has to do. But...she _really_ likes this dress. She's never owned anything like it, and she looks _good_ in it. The thought of taking it off sends a pang through her. Besides, Gideon went through the trouble of making it for her. She should show her appreciation. And her other clothes look far too human, anyway.

"No," Iris says, "I think I'll stick with this."

Bells chime.

Barry grins. "I left a bag for you by the door. It's got Len's package, along with some water and human food. Should be enough for the walk to and back."

Iris finds the messenger bag easily. It has a shining lightning strike for a button and a snowflake engraved on the flap.

"Our symbols," Barry explains, "so creatures won't bother you. Well, most of 'em anyway."

Iris' heart jumps. "Most?"

Barry grips her arm. "Just stay your course, Writ. Focus on that."

* * *

The morning is warm, despite the ice surrounding the house. Len's doing, no doubt.  


Speaking of the house, it should not be a small cottage. Wisteria wraps around its unassuming walls and windows, where Iris had been sure the inside boasted uninterrupted glass. Her mind spins trying to reconcile it.

Fairy magic is strange indeed.

Shaking her head, Iris looks to the crimson and green. The light is distinct among the grey sky, making it easy to follow. Iris sets her eyes on it and leaves the cottage's small clearing.

As she starts on her way, Iris tries looking at Len's package. It's a gilded box with painted winter landscapes in gold frames, but the lock mechanism is made of puzzles within puzzles. Eventually, she's forced to put it away and hope the lady of gold opens it in front of her. She wonders what purpose it serves. An offering? A gift? A bribe?

Iris is distracted from her thoughts as she fully enters the forest and sees moss-covered trees and deep-seated roots loom over her. But instead of last night's threatening arch, they seem to stand as sentinels over the flowers and underbrush. Perfectly ordinary woodland animals scurry and fly about them unharmed. The birdsong is soothing in its familiarity.

Iris looks to the sky and freezes when she sees that exploring the guardian trees and birds has set her far off course.

Len's voice echoes in her head. _Follow the dawn. Follow the dawn._

His cold demeanor and mischievous smirks fix Iris' eyes to the light. As she sets a determined stride, her fingers unconsciously touch the snowflake's stitching. The pretty birds fall silent.

She can do this. She has to do this.

A man with a broken leg sobs at her from an ancient oak. But Iris sees the vines under his skin and walks past him. He hisses and snarls at her.

An old woman tries to seek her help in finding her grandson. Iris fingers the lightning strike and sees her malicious intent. She quickens her pace.

Iris should have known the bag itself would have magic. She must thank Barry when she returns.

_ Follow the dawn. _

_ You'll be fine, Writ. _

Yes. She will be fine.  


The dawn spreads.

* * *

The trees break so suddenly that Iris nearly stumbles on the open ground.  


A lake glimmers before her, wide enough to encompass half her village. Blood red and strange green give the waters a dark purple sheen that alert's Iris' fight-or-flight instincts in spite of herself.

Sitting at the bank on a large rock is a woman with pointed ears. Her golden brown curls cascade past her shoulders, highlighted by her golden dress and diamond necklace. Her cat eyes are a bright blue, matching Len's ice almost exactly. Her throat is serrated with limp gills, and her skin has a strange texture to it, but that is easily overlooked when she smiles at Iris. A diadem with a sapphire teardrop glitters on her head, drawing Iris' eyes.

Her voice lilts over the lake. "I would say you're lost, but only someone with intent can find me. What does a beautiful woman like yourself want?"

A thousand wishes leap to Iris' lips, most of which she wasn't even aware she'd had.

"I..."

The woman grins beatifically. "Yes?"

"I, um..."

Her bag is cold under her fingertips.

Iris forces herself to take a deep breath. "I have a package for you."

The woman's eyebrows snap to her hairline. "Most humans skip the offering. You've got some sense, at least."

"No, it's not from me," Iris says, "it's from...he told me to call him Len."

All at once, the fog of the woman's loveliness drains from Iris' perception. The woman is still beautiful, but now Iris can see how she had been sharpening a knife with her own nails, and the blades of teeth poking between her lips. 

The creatures abandons the knife and shoots to her feet. "Lenny sent you? Well, why didn't you say so before?" She eagerly holds out her scaled claws.

Iris takes out the box. She approaches as fast as she dares. The box is snatched as soon as she is within reach.

The creature sits back on her rock and sets about the lock. As the complexity unravels, her smile grows. "Lenny always gets me the best presents."

Iris' eyes narrow. "You know each other well, then?" But Barry hadn't reacted when Len mentioned her. Earlier, though, Len had left so suddenly...

The woman laughs. "You think far too loudly, darling. Calm yourself. Lenny is my brother."

"You're his _sister_?"

"Call me Liselle," the woman says, "and yes, I am. It doesn't happen often. We're special." She winks. "And what's your story? Lenny doesn't often send messengers I don't recognize."

"I owe him," Iris replies.

"Really, now?" Liselle's smirk is identical to Len's. "And one of your tasks was to deliver something to _me_? You must be very special yourself."

"I don't think so."

"Come now. I'm his only family, and he sent you to meet me. Have some pride, dear."

Iris shifts on her feet. "I'm just here to fulfill a debt."

Liselle laughs again. "I can already see how he likes you."

Iris crosses her arms.

"My, my, what fierce eyes you have. Fine, I'll open my gift. I'm sure you're just shivering with anticipation."

The box opens. Liselle makes a strange croaking noise, but from her smile, Iris thinks it's supposed to signal happiness. Liselle reaches in and retrieves an entire javelin of gold.

These warped realities are giving Iris a headache.

Liselle gently sets the box by her webbed feet, beholding her new weapon with two hands and bloodthirsty eyes. "He always knows _just_ what to get me," she says. Then she pouts and adds, "But my present is nothing like this." She sighs. "I suppose it will have to do, though."

Sticking her javelin in the ground, Liselle whistles to her lake. Iris staggers back as a thick tentacle rises from the depths, bearing a ball of river weeds. Liselle makes kissing noises at the tentacle as she takes the wrapping.

"Here we are," she says. She cuts the weeds with her claw, and they fall away to reveal a round box of silver. "And to ensure this reaches my brother..."

The tentacle wraps around Iris' legs. She has no time to scream.

* * *

Iris coughs violently, river water sloshing from her mouth.  


"Writ?!"

Barry helps her to her feet. "I'm so sorry! We didn't think she'd send you back like _that_!"

Iris spits out more water. "Does she not normally throw people across a forest?"

"Well, technically she sent you through the waters underground," Barry says. He balks at Iris' glare. "But no, this is not normal."

A white fox trots into the clearing. It leaps into Len's swagger. He scoops up the silver box, a strange shine in his eyes.

"My sister doesn't usually take to people so fast," he says.

"Yes," Iris snaps, "I felt the affection."

Len smirks. "You'll recall that I told you how to reach her, not how to return." Iris' gut clenches in horror. "Instead of letting you loose through this maze, she gave you the direct route."

"I would've brought you back," Barry says sternly.

"But not for a while," Len says, "and by then, who knows where you would've ended up?"

Iris clenches her teeth. "Then I wouldn't have been able to fulfill my other tasks before the year and a day passed."

Len shrugs. "What did you expect, Writ? I am who I am. Barry here may have a merciful heart, but I wasn't cut from the same cloth. But you won my sister's approval, so I suppose I can go easy on you from now on."

"Much appreciated," Iris spits.

Barry guides her to the house. "I'm sorry, Writ. I should've known."

Once the door closes behind them, Iris removes her bag. "At least you gave me a magic bag."

Barry's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

Iris tilts her head. "When I walked through the forest. All I had to do was touch it and I would be free of the creatures trying to ensnare me, just like you said."

Barry's eyes widen. "Writ...there is no magic in that bag. It's meant to be a symbol, that's all."

Iris starts. "But. I could see a hag's aura. And the vines of a dryad."

"Whatever caused you to see that, it wasn't the bag's doing."

Nausea rocks Iris' stomach. She retreats to her room without a word.

* * *

Len's slammed against the door as soon as he walks in.  


Barry's eyes crackle with lightning. "How could you?!"

"Careful," Len drawls, "wouldn't want to disturb our guest."

Barry snarls, but his grip eases. Len shrugs him off to grab an apple.

"I thought you'd attach something to the gift," Barry says.

"Haven't you learned by now not to assume anything about me?"

" _Len_."

"Cool it, Barry. She's safe."

Barry slams his hands on the table. "But she almost wasn't! Because of _you_!"

Len takes a bite of his apple. "You know how my deals work. Each task is also a test. She passed the first."

"And you would put her against _Mick_ now?"

Len's grin is positively devious. "My tests always work out in the best ways."

"How _modest_ of you."

Len leans across the table. "Barry. If Lisa likes her, Mick will _love_ her."

"You're despicable."

"I am a fae who follows his nature. What are you, Barry?"

Barry's lip curls. "I'm a fae who remembers compassion for strangers."

"And that is why you need me."

"No, Len. That is why _you_ need _me_."

"Now who's being modest?" Len says.

Their faces are inches apart.

The apples tumble to the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Well this BLEW UP ON ME so I'll just add each chapter based on the week's prompts


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